


The Power of Friendship

by saoirse9



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Merlin's Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 01:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14273850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saoirse9/pseuds/saoirse9
Summary: Merlin's been hurt, Arthur's fed up, and secrets don't stay secrets very long when the prince has something to say about it.(This is an older fic that I had posted elsewhere and I decided needed to be here, as well.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set sometime between seasons 3 and 4.

The room was quiet. Too quiet. And dark, much darker than Merlin preferred. Not to mention its out of the way location. All of the boy's instincts were screaming at him to flee, that this was, without doubt, a trap. But the raven-haired young man couldn't leave. Arthur's life was on the line… again. Recently, the young manservant had received letters, well, notes really, vaguely threatening the prince's life. At first, they didn't seem all that serious, so the warlock had simply been keeping a closer watch on who surrounded the young Pendragon at all times. Until this last note. This one had been a tad more… deadly, warning, in excruciating detail, that unless he went to a certain out-of-the-way storage room in the cellar at midnight the next night, the future ruler of Camelot would be dead before the sun rose. And that Merlin simply couldn't ignore. So here he was, walking into what was almost certainly a trap. But the young wizard squared his shoulders and stepped into the darkness anyway. He wasn't about to let anyone get away with threatening Arthur.  
Before his eyes even had time to adjust to the low light, a hand roughly grabbed Merlin from behind and a foul smelling cloth was shoved against his nose and mouth. The fumes clouded the young man's senses but he fought back with all his might, so the unseen person pushed the cloth even tighter against the warlock's face, cutting off all air. When the boy still struggled, his attacker cuffed him, hard, on the head. Light blossomed behind the ebony-haired young man's eyelids while pain danced down his neck and he slowly slipped into the blackness of unconsciousness.  
The next morning, Arthur stormed up to Gaius's quarters, ready to chew out his lazy, lay-about manservant. Shoving open the door to the physician's main room, the prince stalked in, his foul mood filling the entire chamber.  
Looking up, the old man asked, "Did you need something, Sire?"  
The young Pendragon nearly growled when he answered, "Yes. Merlin. He hasn't shown up for work."  
Gaius frowned. "That's odd. His bed was empty when I went to wake him this morning. I assumed he had left early without waking me, although that would, in fact, be out of the ordinary for him…" he trailed off.  
The scowl on the blonde boy's face faded, to be replaced with puzzlement. That was strange. Merlin wasn't exactly a morning person, for one thing. For another, Gaius was like a father to the boy and for him not to say goodbye to the old man, even just for a day of work… It didn't sit well. Several nasty suspicions worked their way into Arthur's mind, not least of which was that his manservant was doing something extremely idiotic and highly dangerous again. "Do you mind if I have a look at his room?" he inquired. He was concerned but quickly tried to hide it with an offhand comment, saying quickly, "I mean, he's probably in the taverns, but it doesn't hurt to check."  
The old physician nodded his permission and the prince headed up the stairs to his servant's room. Pushing the door open, he scanned the chamber for anything out of place, any clue to the raven-haired boy's whereabouts. The young man's quarters were a mess: there were clothes piled on the floor, a cupboard hung open, books lay stacked every which way… all what the young Pendragon had expected of the untidy boy who served him. But then his eyes fell on the bed. It was made neatly, didn't appear to have been slept in, and looked completely out of place in the chaotic room. Looking closer, Arthur noticed a corner of parchment sticking out from under the pillow. Striding over to the bed, the blonde boy pulled out the paper and read the note written on it. His face turned white and he raced out of the room, then on into the corridor, not even pausing to tell Gaius what was going on. Grabbing a torch on his mad dash downstairs, the prince reached the out-of-the-way storage room specified in the letter and frantically scanned the chamber for any sign of Merlin. But, aside from the boxes and crates swathed in a layer of dust decades deep, the only thing there was a dirty old cloth lying forgotten in the middle of the floor. Picking it up, Arthur took a small, careful sniff. As he suspected, it smelled strongly of a powerful sleeping drug he'd had run-ins with before. Even one small whiff of the fumes sent his head reeling. If that had been placed over anyone's nose, such as, say, an unsuspecting Merlin, it wouldn't be long before he was knocked out, even if he struggled. The prince's worst fears, ignited by the odd circumstances of Merlin's absence and the obvious trap set up in the note, were confirmed: for some reason, someone had lured the raven-haired, naïve, overly-loyal manservant here, attacked, and kidnapped him.  
Arthur trudged back up to Gaius's quarters. He dreaded telling the old man of his charge's disappearance, but he had to. The physician needed to know, he was the boy's guardian, after all; and besides, the old man might have an idea where to begin looking for Merlin.  
Having told Gaius the bad news, both he and the blonde boy had attempted to brainstorm possibilities for the young manservant's whereabouts, only to draw a blank. But Arthur was the crown prince of Camelot and he wasn't about to let a little thing like a lack of ideas stop him. Gathering a small contingent of knights, completely loyal to him, who knew and rather liked the goofy-eared boy that had gone missing, and without ever asking his father's permission (since Uther wouldn't give it and Arthur would disobey anyway), the young Pendragon rode out of Camelot as if the very demons of Hell were nipping at his heels. Maybe they were. After all, Merlin had been kidnapped while attempting to protect him.  
The building, situated in an overgrown clearing deep in the forest, was falling apart and one could almost see the foul aura surrounding it. This was the place, Arthur could just feel it. Motioning his men to move silently, he crept forward to the half-open door of the hut. He could hear two voices inside, one deep, the other high-pitched, but they were speaking too quietly for him to make out anything they were saying; all the prince could discern was a triumphant note in the tone of the high-pitched voice. Suddenly, a soft, weak moan fought its way past the door. The young Pendragon would recognize that voice anywhere. It was Merlin, it had to be. Arthur saw red. Drawing his sword, he charged through the door, rage in his eyes and vengeance fueling the fire of his attack.  
CRASH.  
A flash of gold, silver, and red, a gleam of fiery cobalt. Arthur. Merlin let his eyes slip closed, no longer fighting the paralysis of the poison or the little voice in the back of his mind telling him to let go, relax, allow the venom to take over. The raven-haired boy's shallow breathing slowed, but he didn't care. His master had come to save him. He was safe now.  
Arthur's breath hitched in his throat when he caught sight of Merlin. The ebony-haired young man was beaten and bloody, fresh bruises and lacerations visible on nearly every inch of exposed skin, both dried and fresh blood staining his clothes (what was left of them) and his body, one of his feet resting at an odd angle, his breathing shallow, perhaps a rib or two fractured. The image of Merlin's broken body only added to the prince's rage and heightened his fury. The witch and her partner in crime (a man the young Pendragon recognized as a servant from Camelot, no less!) never knew what hit them. One minute they were torturing their prisoner and cackling in triumph, the next they lay on the floor, dead. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, the blonde man saw Merlin's blue eyes fall shut and the labored movement of his chest slow to almost nothing. The prince's heart stopped for a moment and he roared in rage at those who had dared do this to the boy, those who now lay dead, and in fear that his servant might not make it. (He claimed to have no remembrance later of making any sound, let alone a roar, and all of his knights thought it safest not to disagree; dread of what the young Pendragon might do to any who dared suggest it had happened held their tongues.) Gathering the half-dead boy into his arms, Arthur leaped to his horse, settled the raven-haired young man before him in the saddle, and raced to Camelot, to Gaius, to Merlin's only hope of survival.


	2. Chapter 2

Light streamed through the windows of the palace at Camelot and the hush of midmorning, when everyone was occupied with something and no one ever seemed to be in a hurry, pervaded the halls. Merlin moved slowly down the corridors of the castle, wincing with each step on his still tender foot, although that had been the least of his most recent batch of injuries. Fortunately, the broken ribs had healed (though they were as yet pretty sore), the lash wounds on his back had almost faded, and the poison had long left his system. Thinking back to the witch's attack a few weeks earlier, the boy shuddered. The kidnapping had been terrifying, the beatings horribly painful, but the poison had been, by far, the worst. Paralyzed, unable to even whisper, fighting to see, to breathe, and feeling his system slowly shut down… Merlin bit his lip to hold back the terror he had felt at that moment. If Arthur hadn't found him when he did… If Gaius hadn't been able to do the magic required for the antidote… The boy didn't even want to think about it.  
The raven-haired young man still wasn't feeling his best (his sprained ankle was even now giving him difficulties and his breathing hadn't yet returned to normal, resulting in a hacking cough that sounded worse than it really was… so he said) but Merlin couldn't stand to be confined to his bed a moment longer. The rest felt nice for the first few days but the sun was shining, the birds were singing, Camelot was bustling, and the boy soon became bored to the point of tears. Besides, Arthur's room was sure to be a mess after his servant's long absence (the prince seemed incapable of doing even the slightest chore for himself and every other servant, except Gwen, couldn't stand him for more than a few moments when he was in a foul mood, as he had been since Merlin's kidnapping), and the manservant wanted everything back to normal as soon as possible. So, after much arguing, pleading, and promises, Merlin, against his guardian's better judgment (and Gaius's certainty that it would just land his charge back in bed for another week), the young man was allowed out of his room on one condition: that he limit himself to one task a day for at least a week, so he had a chance to regain his strength. Merlin had sworn up and down he wouldn't overexert himself, anything to escape the dull confines of his room and feel that he was being productive again. (Because, really, as much as he complained about having too much to do, the opposite was even worse.)  
Traversing the familiar path from his room to his master's, the goofy-eared servant braced himself for the utter chaos he was sure to see upon entering the prince's chambers. Taking a deep breath as he reached the door, Merlin pushed it open… and winced. It was bad beyond even his expectations. The closet hung open and clothes were strewn about the room; the bed was unmade, the bedclothes almost falling off the mattress; a plate of food that looked (and smelled) about three days old rested on the table, flies having a heyday with it.  
The blue-eyed boy sighed and shook his head. He and Gaius had decided on the relatively easy task of polishing Arthur's boots as a good way to spend his first day back at work, but that food had to go. Merlin couldn't exactly complete his task if he couldn't breathe. Sticking his head back out the door, the raven-haired servant flagged down a passing fellow servant carrying an empty tray and asked her to take the plate of rotten food down to the kitchens for him. Besides the fact that everyone in the castle knew what he'd just been through (gossip travelled like wildfire in the palace), Merlin looked so tired and pathetic (not to mention simply adorable) that the maid just couldn't say no. Smiling prettily up at him, her sea-green eyes playful, she took the tray and, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously, asked if there was anything else she could possibly do for him? The manservant grinned back and told her not at the moment but he'd let her know if anything came up. Blushing and giggling, the brunette continued down the hall.  
Merlin shook his head and laughed a little. For some reason, most of the female servants in Camelot (with the notable exception of Gwen) found him inexplicably attractive. The young manservant chalked it up, albeit just a tad sarcastically, to his good looks, wit, and charm; Gaius explained it away with two words: maternal instinct.  
Crossing through the hazard zone of the prince's room (which he'd clean later when he wasn't quite so exhausted) to the closet and pulling out Arthur's ten pairs of nearly identical boots (did anyone really need that many pairs of shoes?), Merlin sighed at the state they were in. Each pair would probably take him a half an hour or more, so he had, at best, five hours of work ahead of him, mostly because he'd have to do all the labor by hand, as he wasn't up to even that much magic quite yet. At least he wasn't confined to his bed anymore and had something to do other than twiddle his thumbs or read about the various uses of willowbark… Sitting down next to the bed, the raven-haired young man set to his task with a willingness to work not often seen in him, at least for jobs like this (although it wasn't nearly as bad as mucking out the stables, something Gaius had expressly forbidden until Merlin was completely well again).  
An hour or so later, the young man well into polishing the third pair of boots, the door to Arthur's chambers banged open. Knowing it had to be the prince (no one else opened a door quite like the young Pendragon), Merlin looked up. But the customary snarky greeting died on his lips when he noticed the determined gleam in the blonde boy's cobalt eyes. The raven-haired young man gulped, wondering what he could possibly have done now (besides, of course, the things he couldn't help, namely his kidnapping, near death, and weeks-long absence to recuperate); when his master looked like that, it usually didn't bode well for the manservant…  
Arthur couldn't take it anymore. He stepped back from the scarred wooden dummy on which he'd been exercising his sword skills and pushed his sweaty blonde hair out of his cobalt eyes. Nothing was working, not jousting, not mace practice, not even sword work. The image of his manservant's bloody, mangled, paralyzed body seemed burned in his mind. Thinking back to Merlin's abduction and the sight that met the young Pendragon's eyes when he'd finally found the raven-haired boy, not to mention the utter helplessness he had felt when he couldn't do a thing to protect or help heal his friend, made the prince shudder. And yes, the boy was his friend, realized Arthur, as unlikely as it seemed. Because, really, a prince who thought of his manservant as his best friend? It just didn't happen! Only… the raven-haired boy was the most loyal and caring person the young Pendragon had ever met. The blonde boy thought back to the moment his manservant had drunk from a cup he'd known was poisoned, simply to save the prince's life. The remembered image, clear as crystal, of Merlin collapsing lifelessly to the floor led straight back to the sight Arthur had been attempting to erase for the last several weeks. 'At least', he thought bitterly, 'I was able to help that time. This time I could do nothing.' Those musings, in turn, brought the blonde prince up against a question he'd been asking himself since the witch's attack: Why? Why would a sorceress attack Merlin, and only Merlin, of all people? Sure, he was manservant to the prince of Camelot, but then bribery would seem more logical, not a full out magical attack. That gained nothing for anybody. Unless… unless the raven-haired boy was hiding something. That was the only explanation the young Pendragon could come up with. And besides, too many other things didn't make sense, now that he thought about it, unless his friend was concealing some sort of secret. Watching the knights working all around him in the bright sunshine of the practice field, but not really seeing them, Arthur made up his mind. He just knew his manservant wasn't telling him something and the blonde boy was determined to find out what it was.  
Pausing only long enough to grab his brown leather vest (it was a miserably hot day so he had been practicing his sword work without armor or chainmail, since it didn't really matter what he wore to hack away at a wooden dummy), the prince strode back to the palace. Stopping at Gaius's chambers, sure Merlin was still on bed rest, Arthur was surprised to learn that his manservant had begged to get back to his chores, just to be doing something that might alleviate the boredom, and was probably in the young Pendragon's room now. Rolling his eyes at the idiocy of his friend (because the prince agreed with the physician that going back to work now could only land the raven-haired boy in bed again) and the sheer oddity of the situation (imagine, Merlin wanting to work…), the blond boy continued on towards his chambers.  
Upon reaching his room, Arthur paused, gathered his thoughts and arguments, and threw open the door. His manservant was seated on the floor next to the bed, in the middle of the chaos that was the young Pendragon's quarters, polishing the prince's boots. The raven-haired boy looked up, a sarcastic half-smile already on his face, no doubt ready with some snarky comment. But when he caught sight of the blonde boy's face, the humor leached from his own. Arthur heard Merlin gulp loudly. Taking a deep breath, not exactly sure how to start but determined to find out his friend's secret, the prince just dove right in, beginning with the most burning question.


	3. Chapter 3

"Merlin, you're hiding something. What is it?"  
Merlin stilled, slowly stopping the motion of his hands, letting them rest on the pair of boots he was currently polishing. He wasn't prepared for this question. Laughing nervously, he replied, "Me, hide something? I couldn't keep a secret if my life depended on it." He attempted to speak casually, but winced when the squeak and the crack in his voice betrayed him. Glancing up at Arthur, he tried to gauge whether or not the prince was buying it. Based on the height of his raised eyebrow, the young Pendragon wasn't even shopping, let alone buying.  
Arthur spoke again. "You know I can tell when you're lying, Merlin." He paused to let his words sink in, then continued, "C'mon, you can trust me. You're always dying to tell me what's on your mind, usually when I don't want to know. Now that I'm asking you to tell me, you clam up?" he prodded.  
Merlin sighed, lowering his head to escape the searching cobalt eyes of the prince. It didn't work; he could still feel Arthur's gaze. "I-I… w-well, i-it's just th-that…" he stuttered out.  
Arthur laughed humorlessly. "Great. My best friend doesn't even trust me enough to tell me what's going on in his life."  
Merlin's lowered gaze shot up to Arthur's face, a shocked question in his blue eyes. "Your- ?"  
"Best friend, yeah," the prince interrupted, looking more than a little awkward. "I know it's not… normal for a prince to be friends with his servant but, well, after that sorceress attacked you and I couldn't do anything but watch you suffer, I felt lost… helpless," he mumbled the last bit so badly that Merlin almost couldn't hear it. The young Pendragon's face burned with embarrassment at actually admitting this out loud. "Imagining life without my idiot manservant in it… it – it was just wrong…" Arthur trailed off, running a hand through his blonde hair, exasperated with his failure to put the fear he'd felt at the point of his manservant's near death into words.  
Merlin was taken aback at the prince's honesty. "Arthur, I – "  
The blonde boy broke in, "I understand if you don't think of me as a friend. I know I haven't always been very… kind to you."  
The raven-haired servant chuckled. "Since you're being so honest today, try 'never very kind.'" Arthur glared and tried to protest but Merlin talked over him. "That being said… Of course I think of you as a friend. I certainly wouldn't have stuck around a dollophead like you this long if I didn't."  
The prince ignored the insult he'd become immune to after hearing it so often and grinned; his servant-turned-friend beamed back. Soon, both boys were laughing uncontrollably at the sheer awkwardness and implausibility of the situation. A few minutes later, Arthur calmed down enough to speak. "You still haven't answered my question though, Merlin. What are you hiding?"  
Merlin sobered up immediately and became silent. When he didn't answer, Arthur sighed, exasperated with his friend this time, instead of himself. "You didn't really think I was going to forget about it, did you?"  
The raven-haired boy shook his head, but remained quiet. After a moment, the prince opened his mouth to prod his friend again when Merlin spoke tonelessly. "What makes you think I'm hiding something?"  
Arthur considered the question for a moment. Taking the lack of tone as confirmation of a secret's existence, he answered, "I've thought about it a lot and there are things about you that just don't add up. Like that sorceress attacking you. When a magic-user comes after me, I know why. But why would one go after you, and only you?" The young Pendragon paused, but Merlin didn't answer (though the servant had an idea that it might, just possibly, have something to do with the fact that he was the only thing standing between Camelot and the magical community out to destroy it, not that he was prepared to tell the prince that). Faced with his friend's unresponsiveness, the blonde boy continued, "And after we went out to confront the Great Dragon a year ago, you told me I had managed to mortally would it. Except there was no blood, not on the ground, not on me, not even on my sword." Again, Arthur waited for a reply, but his friend remained silent. "Or before that, with the Questing Beast. After it bit me, who killed it? The only other person in that cave was you and half the time you can't tell which end of a sword is which. No offense," the prince added, quickly, not really wanting to insult his friend.  
"None taken. It's only the truth," Merlin replied, smiling slightly.  
Arthur hoped the other boy would answer his questions now that he had finally spoken, but the raven-haired young man wasn't forthcoming. The silence stretched out into awkward territory.  
"Merlin, you can't ignore my question forever."  
The young man in question grimaced. This was, perhaps, the most difficult thing he'd ever done, even more than hiding his secret day in, day out, or knowing in every dangerous situation that he might have to sacrifice his life to protect the prince he now considered his closest friend. "Fine. If you really need an answer. Just… don't think that because I didn't tell you before this, I don't trust you. I trust you with my life, I just didn't want to make you confront this choice. Not yet. And I would NEVER betray you."  
Arthur was confused, it showed on his face, and he didn't like it. At all. What in the heck was his idiot friend blathering on about now? Nothing could be as bad as Merlin was making this out to be. Except, well… no. Merlin? No. Just… no, it couldn't be. Not Merlin. Uh-uh. No way. As he'd so often said, that would require intelligence. But then… what?  
Merlin took a deep breath and began stuttering his way through his confession. "A-Arthur, I, w-well, I-I… I'm a…" He paused then, gulping down his fears, continued in a whisper, "a warlock." The raven-haired boy turned his gaze to the floor, not wanting to see the hurt and betrayal that were sure to be in his friend's eyes. What he didn't expect was laughter, but that's what he got. After a short silence, Arthur began to chuckle, then to laugh outright. Merlin couldn't believe it. He'd been prepared for the prince to be upset but not for this total lack of belief. Was it really that implausible an idea? Frowning, the young wizard crossed his arms and waited for his friend to stop giggling and straighten up from where he was doubled over with mirth.  
Calming down, Arthur wiped his eyes and shook his head in amused tolerance. Merlin could be such an idiot some days. "Good joke, Merlin. Very funny. Idiotic, but funny. Hilarious.Now, what are you really hiding?" Catching sight of his friend's frown and insulted attitude, the humor drained from Arthur's face as he realized the normally lighthearted boy was dead serious. "Merlin? You… no, you – you can't be a… a warlock. That just…" he trailed off when Merlin's expression only got harder, more insulted, more (there was no other word for it) pouty. The prince was slowly coming to the realization that maybe his friend was telling the truth. This could be a problem…


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin had a choice now. Arthur didn't believe him, so two options lay before him: the young wizard could just laugh his confession off as the joke the prince thought it was or… or he could prove it and risk his life, for Arthur's sake, again. The first choice was, undoubtedly, the safest. But… he hated living a lie. He hated that his best friend, someone he would willingly die for, might think he didn't trust him. He decided he'd take his chances, that dying for the truth was better than living for a lie.  
The young warlock looked at Arthur, noticing his friend's humor had been replaced by a paralyzed shock. So he was at least entertaining the idea. Gathering his courage, something akin to the fire he felt whenever Arthur's life was threatened, Merlin challenged the prince. "Do you want me to prove it?"  
Slowly, still dazed, Arthur nodded.  
Merlin lifted his hand, searching blue eyes never leaving his friend's face, waiting for that telling first reaction, whether he would live or die. He spoke the words aloud, knowing Arthur would recognize the language of the Old Religion as that employed by all the magic-users they had run into over the last three years. As soon as the words left his lips, a softly glowing blue orb floated an inch or two above the raven-haired warlock's hand, bathing him in its pale light.  
Arthur drew in a sharp breath as he watched his friend perform the magic that would mean the end of his life if anyone ever reported it to the king. The blonde prince's first reaction was awe-filled, that this person, a boy he considered his best friend, would trust him enough to place his continued existence in the young Pendragon's hands, giving him the power over Merlin's life or death. But then suspicion and bitterness crashed in like a wave. How could he possibly trust Merlin, when the young man had been hiding such a treacherous secret from him for so long? What else had he hidden from the prince? And what if the wizard before him was only trying to gain his trust in order to do something horrible to Camelot? But it's Merlin, whispered another, less skeptical portion of his mind, Merlin, his emotional, goofy, loyal-to-a-fault, manservant/best friend. How could he possibly doubt Merlin's sincerity and loyalty after the last three years, when the raven-haired boy had proven time and time again how willing he was to sacrifice himself for Camelot, for the king, for Arthur himself? The blonde boy shook his head, trying to sort through the tangle of emotion and logical reasoning muddling his mind. And then something occurred to him. Taking a closer look at the orb floating above Merlin's hand, he realized it looked oddly familiar… But that was absurd. He'd never seen Merlin's magic before. Had he? Then it hit him: the orb looked exactly like the one that had led him safely from the cave when he'd gone to find the Morteus flower, the time Merlin had drunk poison to protect him. Arthur looked up, searching his friend's gaze, wondering if the boy had protected him even then, on his deathbed. But he wasn't quite sure how to ask. So he just took a deep breath and jumped in. "I've… seen that before," he said, gesturing toward the blue orb that Merlin was now absently playing with as he awaited the prince's decision. "When you were poisoned, and I had to get the Morteus flower to save you, an orb just like that one guided me out of the cave. I knew it was magic but that didn't seem to matter, as whoever had sent it had just saved my life… Did you do that?"  
Merlin simply looked at him for a minute before answering completely truthfully, "I don't know. I remember next to nothing about what happened after I drank the poison. All I can tell you is that, despite being unconscious, I knew you were in danger. And my destiny is to protect you, so maybe it was me. Gaius would probably know."  
The comment about Merlin's destiny baffled Arthur. So he decided to leave it alone for now. Instead, he asked, "So Gaius knows about… about this?" The blonde boy gestured vaguely at his raven-haired companion.  
Merlin nodded. "Yeah, I saved him from a fall off a ladder the day I got here. He's been helping me hide it ever since."  
Arthur considered this new information for a moment. What Gaius was doing, harboring and protecting a warlock, was treasonous. But the prince could understand. He, too, felt the need to protect this hapless boy standing in front of him no matter what he had done, a boy with a secret more dangerous than a sword was sharp…  
The young Pendragon was torn. Keeping Merlin's secret meant betraying his father and going against everything he'd ever known about magic. But betraying Merlin to his father meant sentencing his best friend, the most loyal, trustworthy person he'd ever known, to certain death. Either action had consequences. The question was, which set of results could he live with? The prince decided he needed more information. He had a few questions and the person best suited to answering them was standing right in front of him. After a second or two of quiet, Arthur asked, "How long have you been practicing magic?" and was a bit taken aback at Merlin's prompt response.  
"All my life. I was born with magic, I didn't learn it, it's always just been there. I was moving things with magic before I could walk. I have been studying though, to improve, so that I can better protect you…" The warlock fell silent again.  
The blonde prince contemplated this for a moment; he sensed it was the truth. Glancing up, he looked straight into Merlin's eyes, his gaze direct, piercing, discerning, seeking any untruths hidden in his friend's answer to his next question. "How many times have you saved my life?"


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin pondered Arthur's question. How often had he saved the prince? He knew it was a lot; three years was a long time, especially when most of the magical community had it out for the Pendragon family. But the young warlock didn't want to brag, remembering how often it had gotten him into trouble before, fearful that it might lead to even more disbelief… "A few," he finally replied, evasively. But Arthur sensed the evasion immediately.  
"You're lying. How many times have you saved my life?"  
Merlin sighed, exasperated with his friend's persistence. "I don't know, alright? I've lost count."  
Arthur's eyebrows shot towards his hairline. He knew his friend was telling the truth this time. "That many, huh? But you're not getting out that easily. I still want to know the exact number and all the details. I need to know."  
Merlin rolled his eyes. The prince could be so demanding sometimes. But this was what he'd been waiting for, a chance to tell the blonde boy his side of the story, his version of all the adventures they'd had together. And yet, he found himself clamming up, his newly acquired modesty asserting itself at the worst possible moment, the secrets he'd kept for so long catching in his throat. Telling about the actual magic had been easy, compared to this, probably because his abilities were just a natural part of him, like breathing. Each time he'd employed magic, however, he'd had to lie to everyone, sometimes almost convincing himself, so that he wouldn't forget the fib and slip up, burying the truth just that much deeper. And so often he'd imagined confessing to the prince about his magic that a mental script for the situation was readily available, but he'd never allowed himself to think past the young Pendragon's most probable reaction (that of hurt, betrayal, and turning Merlin over to his father immediately).  
Arthur, arms crossed and foot tapping, waited impatiently for his friend to respond. When it became clear that the raven-haired warlock was not about to start speaking any time soon, the prince shot a look of frustration at his companion and said, "You know, Merlin, if there was ever a time for you to brag, it would be now."  
Merlin laughed a little. "I know, Arthur, believe me, I know. It's just… it's so difficult to talk about these things that I've had to lie about to you, to everyone, to myself, for so long."  
"I'm not asking for your life history, Merlin, just the last three years of it," the prince replied, amused. But he understood. He had secrets, too, and imagining how hard they'd be to tell… He winced. Yet… "I still need to know, however. I can't make a fair decision without all the information. I might even have to talk to Gaius, you said so yourself."  
Merlin nodded. He knew the prince well enough to have expected that. Didn't make it any easier, though. But he had to try. "Alright. Well, there's the time you know, after we first met, when that witch posing as Lady Helen tried to kill you."  
Arthur broke in. "Wait, what? You used magic? Right in front of everyone?"  
Merlin chuckled at his friend's dumbfounded expression. "Yeah, I did. It was either that or let you die. I couldn't do that, even if you are a prat."  
Arthur shoved his friend, to wipe the annoying self-satisfied smirk off his face. "Idiot." He would have left it at that, but his curiosity got the better of him. "How'd you do it? Use magic that no one noticed, I mean?"  
The warlock suppressed a grin and replied in as offhand a manner as he could manage, "Oh, I magically broke the chain holding the light so it would crush her. Then I simply slowed down time a bit, enough so that I could get to your chair and pull you out of the way." He paused for a moment, to let that sink in, then continued, just to appease his conscience, "Everyone was sleeping or disoriented, though, so it's not like anyone even could have noticed."  
Arthur moved over to the window, gazing out across Camelot as he contemplated the episode his friend had just recounted, one that the prince only barely remembered (due to being slightly stupefied by an enchanted sleep at the time). To think that Merlin had been appointed his personal servant because the raven-haired boy had saved his life from magic through the use of magic. It was unbelievable. And it raised one huge question. The young Pendragon turned back to the warlock. "Why? Why save my life? We'd only just met, we all but loathed each other, and my father would have killed you had he known how you saved me. So why?"  
Merlin moved to stand next to his friend at the window and looked out at the bustle of the city below them as he answered, "At first, I wasn't sure why. Kilgarrah had told me it was my destiny to protect you, but I didn't even like you. You were the most spoiled, arrogant, pompous, self-centered, royal ass I'd ever met in my life. And yet, I felt compelled to save your life time and time again until it just became a habit. Now, I realize we are connected, just like Kilgarrah said. And besides, life without my best friend, arrogant, supercilious, overbearing prat that he is," here Merlin flashed a grin at his master before continuing, "just wouldn't be any fun. You keep my life interesting… your highness."  
Arthur chuckled, glancing down at the softly glowing blue orb of magical energy that his friend was still absently playing with. "I have a feeling your life would be interesting with or without me in it."  
The two boys, so very different in looks (one dark, one light) and in personality, yet so very much the same, stood in companionable silence for a moment, looking out across the city they both loved, at the people for whom they would willingly give their lives, and far beyond, over the misty green forest in which they'd so often cheated death while protecting those they loved. They could, perhaps, have stood there the rest of the day, no longer master and servant but equals, two friends. However, there were still questions to be answered and decisions to be made, though Arthur had unconsciously made his choice the moment he'd decided to interrogate Merlin rather than immediately turn him in. So soon the prince shook himself out of the reverie into which he had sunk and returned to his inquiry. (He was puzzled about the reference to Merlin's destiny and to someone called Kilgarrah, but decided to continue with his original line of interrogation and ask about those other things later.) "That time, I know you saved my life. I just didn't realize how. When have you saved my life without me knowing?"


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin looked down, watching the glowing orb roll around his hands as he played with it. Telling Arthur about the Lady Helen episode, in his own words, made it easier to talk about the other times he had saved the prince's life. It hadn't felt like bragging, it hadn't even seemed all that perilous; it was simply, finally, just telling the truth. "Well," he responded slowly, "remember when you were fighting Valiant and the snakes on his shield came to life?"  
"Yeah. He seemed surprised, like he didn't expect it to happen."  
The raven-haired warlock grinned. "That's because he didn't."  
Arthur looked at his friend, amused. "You?"  
Merlin nodded, "Yeah. I stayed up all night practicing the – the spell," he stuttered (it still felt strange to speak openly of his powers), before continuing, "on one of the stone dogs from the courtyard. I got it, just in time to run out and animate the snakes."  
The prince hated to admit it, but he was impressed. "You stayed up all night and still managed to save my butt? Not bad," he commented, only a tad grudgingly.  
Merlin grinned at the praise, but it turned into a grimace as he recalled the rest of the incident. "Yeah. 'Course, then I had to deal with that darn dog when I was dead tired. That thing was vicious!"  
The young Pendragon couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. The warlock's face instantly turned thunderous and pouty, which only made Arthur laugh harder.  
"But it was vicious!" protested Merlin. "Look, it bit me and left a scar!" He held out his scarred wrist to prove his point.  
The prince glanced at it, still chuckling, but sobered almost immediately. The animated stone dog hadn't left just a scar on his friend's wrist, it had left a pair of three inch long, ragged semi-circles of scar tissue. Arthur scowled at his own obliviousness, wondering how he hadn't noticed his servant was so badly injured at the time. Merlin was right, he really was a prat. An arrogant, supercilious, overbearing prat. The blonde boy wondered how many other scars his friend had picked up saving his ungrateful hide… Which train of thought led right back to – "Well, I got another one out of you. Now, when else?"  
And so Merlin recounted the last three years, not only the times he had saved Arthur, but when he had rescued the king or Camelot in general. Any time he had used magic (even the pranks and mistakes) was spelled out for his friend. It felt so good to finally talk about this, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He relived every moment of each adventure as he related them to the prince, watching his reactions carefully as Arthur soaked in every detail. The young Pendragon beamed with pride for his friend when the warlock told how he had defeated the false physician who had tried to kill Uther. But the hurt and disappointment in Arthur's blue eyes made Merlin burn with shame as he recounted the tale of releasing the Great Dragon, although he'd had no other choice at the time. (And though Arthur understood this, it was still difficult to learn his best friend had been responsible for unleashing the destructive, vengeful creature on the unsuspecting, innocent citizens of Camelot. However, the bitterness in Merlin's posture and voice told the prince clearly that he regretted the whole situation and that was apology enough, even without the constant refrain of "I'm so sorry" the warlock muttered every so often.  
Then came the story of Balinor, and Arthur bowed his head in grief for his friend when silent tears began to roll down the warlock's, and last Dragonlord's, face. There was a moment of silence after this tale, as both boys pretended not to see the other furiously wipe his eyes. The imp story made Arthur glare in a "you're so going to pay for that as soon as I figure out how" kind of way, yet Merlin couldn't help cracking up at the memory of the prince with a donkey's ears and voice. And so it went, on and on, 'til they reached the present. Occasionally, Arthur would laugh at the crazy situations or admonish his best friend for the foolish risks he'd taken, but mostly he just listened intently. The warlock also spoke of the lessons he'd learned along the way; that magic was neither good nor evil but simply a tool, like one of Arthur's weapons; that the immense power of magic could easily corrupt, as it had with Gilli; that many times the way that seemed hardest was actually the best in the long run. When Merlin finished speaking, the room rang with an expectant silence.  
The prince considered everything he'd just heard, weighing it against what he'd been told his entire life, the litany that all magic-users were corrupt and evil. But there was no way the goofy-eared boy before him could possibly be evil; an idiot, definitely, but not corrupt. Especially not after all the times he'd risked his neck, put his life on the line, for the people he loved, for the city he called home, and even for his enemies, his persecutors. With all that in mind, Arthur couldn't condemn Merlin, he just couldn't. Unless… but no, the warlock wasn't lying. The prince could recognize when his friend lied, had sensed the ebony-haired boy was leaving something out after each adventure in the past, and had chosen not to pursue the truth until now, so for any suspicion he felt because of Merlin's previous lies, he had only himself to blame. Besides, Arthur had been trained to notice inconsistencies and there were none in his friend's story. In fact, any prior discrepancies had dropped away when this last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.  
Arthur took a deep breath. "I can trust you, Merlin, I know that. And I can't turn you in, not after all you've done for me and for Camelot." Merlin looked relieved. "But this is the most dangerous situation imaginable. If you were caught… I couldn't face the future without my best friend. So… I think it would be best if you…" the prince gulped, the words sticking in his throat, "if you left Camelot." He didn't want to send the warlock away, but he couldn't stand the idea that his friend might be caught someday and executed just for doing what was right in the only way he could. But the prince immediately regretted his suggestion when Merlin's expression clouded over with shocked hurt. He clearly couldn't believe the young Pendragon would be so callous. When he managed to speak, his voice was that of a man betrayed.  
"You… want me to – to leave? After all we've been through? I thought we were friends."


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur spoke through a voice filled with pain. "First of all, I don't want you to leave. But because I am your friend, I've realized that what I want matters a whole lot less than your safety. You have to live, because as long as you're alive, somewhere, when I'm king you can come back and live without fearing for your life. But if you were caught and executed… there's no coming back from death."  
The raven-haired boy exploded. "Well, what about what I want, then? Huh? You think I don't know how dangerous Camelot is for me? I'm the one who's been living for years with the secret that could get me killed. You think I want to die? Think again! I could have died any time in the past few years, if that's what I wanted. And where would I go? Back to Ealdor? They have no love for me there; too many unexplainable things happen when I'm around. Camelot is my home now. Gaius is like a father to me, Gwen a sister, you a brother. And besides, how do you think I'd feel if I left just to save my own sorry self and you got hurt or killed because I wasn't here to protect you? Please, Arthur, don't ask me to leave," he finished, fury giving way to pleading.  
The prince sighed, indecision written in his cobalt eyes. "But if you get caught, you'll die."  
"I'll be careful, just like I've been for the past few years."  
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Careful, he says. Think of the number of times you've admitted to or been accused of sorcery! If you hadn't escaped each time and proven who really did it, you would have died!"  
Merlin raised a finger to point out something Arthur had apparently missed. "Ah, but I did escape each time and prove who really did it."  
The prince opened his mouth to argue, then shut it in defeat. "Point taken," he muttered. "I still don't like the idea of how much danger you'll be in every day, though."  
Merlin shook his head ruefully. "It doesn't matter what you like or don't like. This danger is something I've been living with all my life, especially so in the last three years. I'm used to it. I'll handle it. And if I get caught, I'll escape it. Again."  
Arthur looked at his friend for a long moment before giving up. It was clear that the ebony-haired boy was going to insist on this. And the prince had long since learned that arguing with the young man got him nowhere but frustrated. "Fine. Take chances with your life. But know that you won't be going it alone anymore. I mean, I couldn't very well let my best friend die, now could I? Besides, it's just so difficult to find even half-decent servants these days…"  
Merlin grinned at the prince, who grinned right back. But Arthur was bursting with questions. He'd never really gotten to talk with a sorcerer before and his curiosity got the better of him. "So, how does this whole magic thing work, anyway? Are you the only good sorcerer, like the exception to the rule or something? Who else, besides me and Gaius, knows you have magic? Have you ever used magic to do your chores or do you just save it for the important stuff? Would you ever…"  
The blonde boy kept asking question after question, not giving his friend a chance to reply. Merlin sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon…


	8. Epilogue

Two weeks later, after Merlin had explained every possible aspect of magic and his life as a wizard, plus discussion of a whole lot of ideas he'd never even thought of (most of them horribly idiotic and typically prat-ish), the young warlock was arguing with his best friend.  
"It's a terrible idea!" the raven-haired boy exclaimed to his blonde companion. Merlin sat cross-legged on his bed, while the prince relaxed in a mountain of cushions on the floor, which the two boys had hauled up, at Arthur's insistence, to the warlock's room, the only place they felt a discussion of magic could be safely had. "It could get us both killed!" he almost yelled, justifiably, considering the request his friend had just made.  
"Well, no, not me, it couldn't," pointed out the prince. "Father would just assume I was under an enchantment or something."  
"Alright, then what about me? I thought you didn't want me to die?" cried Merlin, exasperated. His friend really was tenacious; once he had an idea, he just wouldn't let go of it.  
"I don't. But Father would never know it was you. We'll just say, if we're caught, which I don't think for a moment will happen, that I found some random mushrooms in the forest that you couldn't prevent me from eating and they were apparently magical. Or something like that," he added disparagingly, when his friend's face appeared dubious at his initial attempt to create a cover story. "The worst you'll get is the stocks for being a terrible servant, which you actually are, and we'll both be safe."  
The warlock felt like ripping out his hair in frustration, so he switched to a different tactic. "It's not just the danger, though. I don't think you can. I don't think anybody can if it's not part of who they are." After he said it, Merlin realized perhaps that wasn't the best strategy for dissuading Arthur…  
As predicted, this reasoning didn't faze the prince a bit. All he said was, "Well, if I can't, I can't, although I'm positive I can. Never know 'til you try, right?"  
The warlock wanted to smack the smirk right off his friend's face but knew it wouldn't help any. "Arthur," he protested again, for what felt like the millionth time in the last hour, "you are the crown prince of Camelot. So for the last time, I am NOT teaching you magic!"  
FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's it. Thanks for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I originally posted this on fanfiction dot net about seven years ago (man, has it really been that long????). But, I decided that it also needs to be here. So, enjoy :)


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